


Body to Flame

by homewithyou



Series: Omegaverse Lamen AU [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha Damen (Captive Prince), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Comfort Sex, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Laurent (Captive Prince), Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homewithyou/pseuds/homewithyou
Summary: Laurent miscarries, and falls apart in the aftermath.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Omegaverse Lamen AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961824
Comments: 32
Kudos: 117





	Body to Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thickenmyblood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thickenmyblood/gifts).



> Thank you to everyone who helped me write this fic in some way! I ended up putting way more into it than I expected, which was a pleasant surprise, so I guess I just like to make Laurent suffer.
> 
> Thank you to my beta reader Tea/H for putting up with my endless questions and for treating my work with such care and consideration. I love you to the moon and back. 
> 
> Thank you to Maca for giving me this idea in the first place - I usually don't write angst, so this pushed me out of my comfort zone, but I loved every minute of it! 
> 
> And thank you to the Captive Prince Discord members for being so supportive of my writing, and always letting me talk about my ideas <3 Y'all gave me the idea for omega Laurent in the first place, so I'm forever grateful.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fic!

Laurent’s dreams came to him in flashes behind his eyelids – a tanned hand reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear, riding his horse through a dewy meadow, a blue earring glinting in low light. He sighed, and burrowed backward into the body emanating an enticing heat that sung to his inner omega. Damen, whose sleeping breaths resembled the lazy rumble of a jungle cat, slept wrapped around his husband like a vine, arm secured tightly across Laurent’s pregnant stomach in unconscious reassurance that his baby and lover were safe. Laurent was lost in a haze of sleepy pleasure, secure in the embrace of his alpha. 

However, the slightest noise – perhaps a creak, or a breath of air – awoke Laurent from his slumber. The moment his sleep-addled mind registered that something was off, his eyes fluttered open and he took stock of his surroundings: it was the middle of the night and he couldn’t see anyone else in the room. The moon had climbed high in the sky and shone brightly through sheer white curtains that were billowing through an open window. 

Laurent suddenly tensed, his body’s languorous pose forgotten. The window was open. 

He strained to hear for any other sound in their chambers, and it soon dawned on him that something was very wrong. Though Damen still slept behind him, his breaths puffing against the back of Laurent’s neck, Laurent could also hear another set of breaths. The breathing was barely audible, and it was obvious that someone was trying to remain as quiet as possible. 

Reaching for Damen’s forearm, Laurent tried to shake him awake without making any noise. The Akielon began to stir, a light groan rumbling up from his throat, and Laurent turned in his arms to face him so he could press a finger to his lips.

Damen blinked awake and stared at Laurent with a question waiting on the tip of his tongue, and Laurent tried to convey with his wide eyes that Damen needed to stay silent. He gestured over his shoulder and mouthed “someone is here,” which caused Damen’s entire body language to change. The Akielon grew tense, and his eyes scanned the room as he sat up to deal with the potential threat. 

Laurent moved to sit up, too, when he saw movement in his periphery. His reflexes kicked in, years spent defending himself coming to his aid, and he was able to dodge the knife that came for his throat just in time. Damen, now wide awake, caught the arm of the man who had just jumped up from underneath one side of their bed and ripped the knife out of the intruder’s hand. The man, poised over Laurent and weaponless, held eye contact with him for a second and bared his teeth, shaggy black hair obscuring half of his face from view.

Laurent heard more movement, and then he glimpsed other figures emerge from the darkness on the other side of their bed. Before Laurent could call out a warning, one of them snuck up behind Damen and stabbed the alpha in the side. Damen howled in pain and dropped the knife to clutch at his wound. 

“Damen!” Laurent reached for his husband as the first assailant grabbed Laurent by his hair and dragged him away from Damen. The man shoved Laurent down onto the bed and wrapped his hand around Laurent’s throat as the blonde thrashed and scratched at his hand; Laurent cursed his body that couldn’t move as well with his pregnant stomach in the way. Out of the corner of his eye, Laurent could see Damen fighting off three men while clutching his side to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Too bad you’re pregnant, or else I would’ve fucked you and made him watch,” the man staring down at Laurent jeered, his free hand caressing the side of Laurent’s cheek. Lauret spit in his face. 

Reeling backward but keeping his hand on Laurent’s throat, the man wiped the spit off his face with a hiss and a curse, and then proceeded to deliver a firm punch to the side of Laurent’s face. Laurent coughed and struggled to breathe, and his leg came up to kick his assailant in the groin. The man grunted and clutched at himself, but then his hand went back to his fallen knife. 

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” he said darkly, with a voice like rock grating against rock. He then reached up to trap both of Laurent’s wrists above his head and tie them to a post on the bed using rope procured from a bag on his back. Once Laurent was secured, he also gagged the struggling king to keep him silent. 

As the intruder sat back on Laurent’s legs to quell his movements, the man’s empty green eyes filled with dark glee. Laurent tried to thrash and scream around the gag, but he was cut off when he saw the man raise his other arm, dagger in hand. 

The world froze. Everything was suspended in that one second. Laurent became aware of every little detail at once – the chill of the wind blowing through the window, the way the moonlight glinted off the blade, how thin the fabric of his sleep shirt felt over his stomach. Damen could be vaguely heard off to the side, a gag stuffed into his mouth while he screamed muffled incoherencies. 

_No_ , Laurent’s mind whispered, a desperate thought, a single useless plea. He turned his head to look over at Damen and met wild brown eyes across the short distance between them. He gave one last thrash, one last kick, and –

The knife came down in the center of his stomach. Laurent’s body arched against the impact, his flesh splitting apart as the blade sunk deeper and deeper, and he felt like he was moving in slow motion. A gasp ripped through his chest.

 _Damen_ , Laurent thought helplessly, when the man retracted the knife to plunge it in again. He felt the blade everywhere in his body. 

Damen could only watch in horror as his lover went limp, eyes distant and glassy while blood crept across the pure white fabric of his nightshirt. The three men holding the alpha’s raging body back were the same size as him, and while wounded he was no match for them. He could do nothing but try to holler through his gag and struggle against his captors.

Laurent lost track of how many times the knife went in, always in a different spot, always deep. The man above him, with a sadistic smile plastered on his face, started to laugh the tenth time it happened, and that was when Laurent stopped counting. He couldn’t bear to exist in that moment – couldn’t bear to hear that sick laughter, or the wet sound of his flesh being breached, or the sound of Damen’s broken noises. 

Laurent let his mind slip away from his body, drifting to a vague gray space in his mind that nobody else could touch, a space carefully built when he was a child in the clutches of his uncle.

 _This isn’t me_ , he thought, as he stared blankly at the knife cutting ribbons into his stomach. The pain was duller that way; it belonged to someone else. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling and remembered every other time he’d been on his back gazing up at the intricate mural in their bedroom – times when Damen had been holding him down similarly, but only to make love to him, only to give him pleasure. The sheets that Laurent had grasped between his fingers in abandon were now warm and wet, stained red with the blood of Laurent’s abdomen.

Just as he began to slip into unconsciousness, hot tears that he barely felt slipping down his face, Laurent heard the bedroom door burst open. Guards rushed in and yelled for backup when they saw the intruders attacking their kings. 

When the man with the knife was yanked off of him, his hands were freed and the gag was removed, Laurent reached down to weakly clutch at his stomach. He could feel the blood seeping underneath his fingernails.

“My baby,” he rasped, just before everything went black. 

✦✦✦

The smell of flowers brought Laurent back into the light. He had been floating, suspended in nothingness for an inordinate amount of time, until the tendrils of the sweet scent reached his nose and awakened his consciousness. When he blinked his eyes open, he hissed and winced against the bright sun filtering through the window into the bedroom. 

Laurent looked around and saw that he was surrounded by pillows and blankets in the bed he usually shared with Damen. Vases of flowers were scattered across various surfaces in the room. On the nightstand next to him were a giant vase of daffodils – his favorite flower, because the yellow reminded him of Auguste’s hair. 

“Laurent,” he heard, and he turned to where Damen sat in bed next to him, his chiton as well as the stubble on his chin clearly days old. 

When Laurent tried to sit up, Damen’s hands shot out to try and coax him back down onto the bed at the same moment that a spear of pain shot through his abdomen. Laurent didn’t cry out like he wanted to, but he did let out a long groan of pain. 

“Easy,” Damen murmured, helping Laurent lie down again. Laurent wanted to speak, but his throat rasped when he tried to form a word. Damen was quick to hand him a cup of water to drink.

Halfway through gulping down the water, reality hit Laurent like an arrow through the heart. 

“Damen,” Laurent said roughly, handing the cup back to his husband. “What happened to our baby?”

Laurent knew the moment he looked up and met Damen’s eyes. Their brown had dulled from its usual brightness, and the lines around his red-tinted eyes spoke of exhaustion. It was the look of a man in mourning. 

“No,” Laurent whispered miserably, hand going to his stomach. He felt the layers of bandages there and flinched. “I don’t… please tell me this is not real.”

“Laurent…” Damen began, and he reached for Laurent’s hand. Part of Laurent wanted to rip his hand away and draw it to his chest, the omega in him on the defense, but the larger part wanted to hold on tight to the comfort his alpha offered him, so that’s what he did. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” Laurent commanded.

“The baby didn’t–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

Damen was pleading with his eyes, but he knew to stay silent then. 

“Who were they?” Laurent asked. 

“Assassins hired by the rebellion,” Damen explained quietly.

“Are they dead?” Damen nodded in response, a shadowed look in his eyes. Laurent knew that Damen was most likely the one who had dealt the killing blows.

“They deserve worse,” Laurent bit out, the threat of tears starting to sting behind his eyes. Damen began to reach out, but then stopped and retracted his hand. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked, and Laurent made a noise of affirmation. With permission granted, Damen scooted farther down on the bed so he could lay beside Laurent, and he gently maneuvered his lover until he was situated on Damen’s broad chest, mindful of his wounds. Laurent reached out to curl his hand into Damen’s chiton. 

“How long was I out?” A hushed tone from Laurent. 

“About a week,” came the equally hushed answer from Damen. Laurent grimaced. The damage must have been bad, then. 

“And your wound?” 

“Not as bad as it felt at the time. Better now,” said Damen simply. 

Laurent took a shaky breath in. He remembered the terror of seeing his husband stabbed, and wondering how much he was about to lose in one night. He still wasn’t sure how much he lost of himself – he needed to get adjusted to the new reality he’d just woken up to. He felt partially numb, as if the cold remnants of his past self had swooped in to cut off circulation to the vulnerable, soft parts of him to protect them from harm.

Vulnerable. The word tasted bitter in his mind. Laurent had grown up hearing stereotypes about omegas being naturally weaker than other genders, but he’d always made a point out of defying those preconceived notions, whether he used his sharp intellect or remarkable physical ability honed over years of careful practice. Laurent knew that his strength drew Damen to him in the first place, and a worm of insecurity wriggled its way through his brain as he considered the shameful way he’d been unable to defend himself while pregnant. 

At that moment, Laurent swore he could feel a phantom kick in his abdomen, and he clutched at his midsection. Of course, his traitorous heart beat faster for a moment as it believed in the impossible. His stomach was almost flat again for the first time in months, and something about the sight of it felt so wrong that Laurent had to close his eyes, fighting the nausea growing in his throat. 

He felt empty – as if someone had come along and carved an essential organ out of his body, leaving him to slowly deteriorate on his own. _I suppose something was carved out of me_ , Laurent thought, considering the way Paschal must have extricated the baby’s undeveloped frame out of his uterus after his abdomen had been torn to shreds. There was a hollowness that took up too much room inside of Laurent, and the wrongness in his body was suffocating. He attempted to take a deep breath, but his chest met resistance. Tightness gripped Laurent’s throat, and he reached up to grab at it in panic. 

Damen’s fingers came up to gently pry Laurent’s nails away from his skin, and he ran a hand through Laurent’s hair to try and calm his omega down.

“Shh,” Damen murmured, as Laurent gasped and held his chiton in a death grip. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” 

Laurent wanted to tell him that wasn’t the point, but he couldn’t find the breath to speak anything coherent. The threat had passed, but that did not erase the danger that memories and consequences of the past posed to Laurent. Any time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the moment before the knife plunged down – that last critical second before everything would change forever, when Laurent could only hold his breath and watch. Laurent wondered if Auguste had experienced a similar feeling the moment before Damen’s sword entered his body. 

In that moment, Laurent envied his brother, who did not have to face the days ahead.

Laurent continued to hyperventilate in Damen’s arms as his husband murmured to him softly, desperation bleeding through his deceptively calm tone. They had planned a life together, and Laurent could think of nothing else – the hushed, sugared conversations at night under the covers with their hands intertwined as they talked about baby names; the way Damen’s face had bloomed like a flower in spring rain when he heard of Laurent’s pregnancy, and how he’d scooped his omega up and twirled him around in elation; the sweet reactions of their loved ones when they’d heard their king would birth an heir.

There were daydreams that he had let himself indulge in after years of refusing to consider a future for himself. Laurent had imagined a small hand clutched in his own, a giggling child hoisted onto Damen’s shoulders, horseback riding lessons, telling bedtime stories he’d heard from Auguste. All of it stolen from him. 

The thought of his brother was stark in that moment, as the boundaries between past and present blurred together. Laurent knew this feeling well – this unbearable, unshakeable loss. Though he hadn’t felt it in years, it greeted him once again as an old, bitter friend would. Laurent was reminded of why he’d built up armor of ice against the world in the first place: because there were soft, hidden parts of him he could never fully defend.

He was unsure whether he had the capacity to handle this pain again. When he lost Auguste, it had taken years for him to scrape together some semblance of peace after the way it had shattered his life. Laurent only began to feel whole again years later, when Damen had swept into his life and turned everything upside down. 

But how was Laurent to feel whole when a physical part of his body had been ripped away from him?

Suddenly, Laurent felt a wave of anger toward Damen overcome him. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for his husband. Laurent would’ve stayed lonely and miserable had Damen not swept into his life and given him something as despicable as _hope_. Damen had made him believe in more for himself, a future full of light and love and family that Laurent had never expected to go after until he fell in love with Damen. 

And what about Damen? When would Laurent inevitably lose the love of his life? His hands curled even tighter into Damen’s chiton, as if he could hold onto the man beside him forever. The anger dissipated, and all that was left was panic at the thought of being left alone again.

“Sweetheart,” the alpha murmured. “You need to breathe deeply.”

Laurent shook his head, and tears began rolling down his face and onto the fabric over Damen’s chest. He had been foolish to imagine anything for himself other than despair and pain. His uncle was right – he could never be happy like other people, and he would always be fundamentally damaged. It was difficult to distinguish his own inner voice from the sickly tone of his uncle’s in that moment. 

“Do you still want me?” Laurent blurted out wetly, cursing himself for sounding so weak. Damen tensed, and he scooted farther down so he could make eye contact with Laurent. 

“Laurent,” he said seriously, cupping the blonde’s cheek. “I will _always_ want you, no matter what.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I lost the baby.” 

Damen’s face turned thunderous, and Laurent felt a spike of apprehension shoot through him before he realized the anger was not directed at himself. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Damen growled. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t understand,” Laurent said. “How were they able to get in here?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out. They came through the window and the guards didn’t hear anything until… well, until it was too late.”

Laurent buried his face into Damen’s chest again until his breathing evened out. Exhaustion bled into his bones. A few minutes passed.

“I think she would’ve been born with your curls,” Laurent murmured.

“She?” Damen sounded curious.

Laurent smiled a small smile. “Yes, she. And I think she would’ve had my mother’s eyes.”

Damen let out a soft laugh. “Well then it’s settled.”

“We would’ve taken her to the beach, too.”

“Of course,” Damen said, and Laurent could hear the smile in his voice. “I would’ve taught her how to swim, and thrown you in the water, too. Your skin would’ve turned pink underneath the sun.”

“She would’ve been a queen like no other,” Laurent whispered. “Just and kind.” Damen’s grip tightened, and he hummed in acknowledgement. 

After a few minutes of tired silence, Damen spoke: “I should probably call for Paschal now. I told him I would summon him as soon as you woke, but I wanted to give you a few minutes to gather yourself.” 

“Thank you,” Laurent said, and he meant it – Damen knew him well. 

When Paschal arrived, his eyes held their usual softness but were now full of sorrow. Laurent was not sure how he would face everyone else if they looked a similar way. 

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t be moving around too much,” said Paschal hastily when Laurent tried to sit up.

“I am the king, and I will move how I want,” Laurent snapped, irritated by the pain. Damen, who had crawled back into bed with Laurent after instructing the guards to fetch Paschal, reached out to grasp Laurent’s hand while he crowded around his omega. “After all the damage my body has taken, surely it can take some light jostling.” 

Laurent could feel Damen wince. Paschal kept his mouth shut, but Laurent saw the look of concern in his eyes. 

“Right, well,” Paschal cleared his throat. “The damage your body took was significant. You’ll have to remain on bed rest for another three weeks, and even after I’ll only allow limited mobility for some time. Your duties as king should be lessened significantly so that you can put all your energy toward healing soundly.” 

Staring down at his hands, Laurent could feel himself start to drift away from the conversation. All he focused on was counting the lines etched into his palm, so he could ignore the droning of Paschal’s voice and the dull ache resonating from somewhere deep in his core. 

_Brother_ , Laurent could hear Auguste’s voice, calling to him from a memory. _Come here_. 

_I’m trying_ , Laurent thought, and his voice sounded childish in his head. If only he could drift further into –

“–possibly permanently infertile.” 

Laurent’s head snapped up. “What?”

Paschal looked sheepish. “I said… the damage done to your abdomen might render you infertile for the rest of your life.”

The rest of Laurent’s life. Suddenly the years stretching out ahead of him felt longer than he could bear with this gaping hole inside of him.

“Infertile,” Laurent repeated in a hushed tone, as if speaking too loud would make his predicament real. 

“And there’s nothing we can do about it?” Damen asked.

Paschal sighed. “I can try, but it’s unlikely for anything to work. I don’t–”

“Leave us,” Laurent demanded quietly. He held no grudge against his physician, but he could not bear to hear anything else. 

“I’ll let you rest for now, but I’ll come back later to check on your physical condition,” Paschal said. 

When he exited the room following a quick bow, Laurent let himself slip out of his role as king. In Damen’s presence, he didn’t need to be capable or strong in that moment – he could just be, and grieve. Laurent sunk back down to the mattress and got under the covers before looking over his shoulder at Damen. 

“Lay with me?” Laurent offered, and his voice was small. Without a second of hesitation, Damen molded himself to his husband’s back. His hand automatically went to cover Laurent’s stomach, but the moment his tan fingers made contact with the thick bandages wrapped around Laurent, the omega whimpered. Though Damen had taught him what it meant to take pleasure in physical touch, Laurent had just been reminded of what it was like to have his body violated once again, when his defenses had been down. No touch near his womb felt safe at that moment. Damen, of course, noticed Laurent’s reaction, and settled for placing his hand on top of Laurent’s hip. 

Laurent stared in silence at the trees outside of their windows, and the way their old, gnarled branches twisted around each other. Dozens of creatures lived on those trees, all going about their animal lives – eating, mating, raising their young, then decomposing on some forest floor nearby. Plenty of animals died every day out in the wilderness, as that was the nature of the world. Death was inevitable, Laurent knew this. 

_Then why did it all feel so unfair?_

Even though he was old enough to be a father, Laurent felt young in that moment. He was a boy again, unsure and afraid of the world without his brother by his side. As a wounded child, Laurent had a theory that he was cursed – that anyone who came into contact with him either left or died, and he was destined to be alone. He just had never expected to lose someone before even knowing them. 

Though his grief was profound, it was different from the grief of his boyhood. When he was a boy, he mourned the tangible: what he knew, what he could see and feel and touch at one point. However, losing his unborn baby meant he could not mourn memories or a person, but rather an idea, and the suggestion that he could’ve had more in life. He was mourning a future he created with his own imagination, which made the robbery of that future from his unexpecting hands that much more devastating; he’d dared to dream after years of withholding himself, and that dream had turned to dust that slipped through his grasp.

A few final tears poured down Laurent’s face, and he could feel consciousness slip away as his exhausted body relaxed into Damen’s embrace. 

_My baby_ , was Laurent’s final, hushed thought before sleep took him.

✦✦✦

The days after that passed in a blur. Laurent rarely left bed, as he could only find energy to get up to eat and go to the bathroom. Sometimes, even that was a struggle, so Damen would bring the omega meals in bed, and he would dine silently while staring out of the window, thinking of nothing but the creatures in the trees. His favorite days were those when thunderstorms tore through the valley and shook the twisted branches violently, because he liked to imagine the small animals holding on for dear life inside their flimsy twig homes. It seemed to be storming more than usual, but Laurent did not mind. 

Damen usually sat with Laurent while he ate, because when he didn’t his husband would lose himself in those windows and forget to eat what was right in front of him. Laurent always scowled when Damen would prompt him to consume more, but he was too tired to resist the alpha’s will. 

Exhaustion followed Laurent throughout the day, both in and out of bed. Sometimes he wrote, but he found that even sitting at a desk wore his body out, so he would often return to journal in his nest of blankets. His journal featured a pitiful collection of dramatic poetry and vague passing thoughts, and he hid it under the mattress. He slept for hours upon hours, and yet, every morning when he looked in the mirror at himself in the bathroom, the dark circles under his eyes seemed to only worsen with time. 

The mirror. Laurent had to take a moment of solitude to prepare himself for each time he undressed in their bathroom and inevitably faced a mirror in the grand chamber. No matter how many weeks passed, his breath caught every time he caught sight of his body.

In the beginning, dozens of angry red stitches littered Laurent’s midriff, crossing over each other like messy patchwork on an old ragdoll. Laurent could tell from the disjointed way his flesh was mending itself back together that Paschal had worked long and hard to repair the tatters of his midsection. With time, and the removal of the stitches, the freshly-healed cuts had begun to turn to pink, puffy scarring that was hot to the touch.

The first time Laurent saw himself naked after the attack and processed the mottled flesh of his abdomen, he had flinched away from himself. Startled by his own reaction, dread crept into Laurent’s head when he considered how his husband would react to see his body. Laurent was no longer a smooth, flawless beauty – he had been irrevocably changed, and he couldn’t help but wonder when Damen would fall out of love with this new, battered version of himself. Laurent heard his uncle’s sick voice in his ear, whispering that he was disgusting and a disgrace, and he couldn’t find the strength to disagree. 

Damen could only spare about a week of giving his full attention to Laurent before he had to cover for both of their kingly duties. And though Laurent knew he could lean on his husband for support, he tended to feel utterly alone with his thoughts as he drifted through each day. Damen had always been a force of nature, pushing through all that life threw at him, but Laurent felt he had reached his capacity for pain. Maybe a past version of him would be able to shoulder this burden, but the warmer person that Laurent had let himself become with Damen had no defenses against such tragedy. Damen tried to find time throughout the day to check on Laurent, but the blonde rarely spoke and merely stared off into the distance when they were together. 

Laurent, with his pale coloring and distant gaze, could’ve passed for a ghost haunting their palace, and Damen was desperately trying to pierce through the veil of the afterlife in pursuit of his husband.

However, Laurent always remained just out of reach. 

This was true both literally and figuratively; Laurent’s emotional distance could be acutely felt, but the physical chasm between them also grew as time passed. Even if the stab wounds on Laurent’s body healed, Laurent’s inner omega still bled every day; his instincts could not be consoled against the potential danger everyone now posed. Damen would reach over to caress or embrace Laurent, and the other man couldn’t prevent a flinch of fear from playing out across his features, confusing his alpha’s touch for a stranger’s in that moment. Damen tried not to let it bother him, but Laurent could see it got to him anyway. 

“Do you not want my touch anymore?” Damen demanded one night, when Laurent had whimpered upon Damen crawling into bed next to him. 

“No, I–” Laurent scrambled to explain. 

“I’m not him,” Damen said with force, which didn’t help Laurent’s fear. “I would never hurt you.” 

“I know,” Laurent sounded like he was pleading, though he wasn’t sure for what. Forgiveness? Salvation? 

“It’s fine,” Damen snapped. “I’m going to sleep in a guest room.” 

Laurent hadn’t said a word as he stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at the retreating figure of his husband leaving him alone in their too-big bed. 

Laurent decided to take daily walks around the palace to clear his head, at Paschal’s suggestion. He never bothered to lace up into tight Veretian garments anymore; instead, he wore the loose white frock pregnant omegas in Akielos wore. Nobody dared question why the king could be seen in surreal flashes of white around the gardens, perpetually in fertility clothes. They didn’t know that he slept in those clothes, too. Though the image of Laurent as a glowing, expectant father had shattered into a million pieces, the omega tried in vain to shove its jagged fragments back together to create his perfect illusion of the happiness he could’ve had. So he wore the white clothes. And he watched the animals in the trees outside his window. 

A few months after, when the scars had flattened some and stopped twinging whenever Laurent twisted, he was on one of his daily walks when he heard a familiar voice around a large hedge bordered by thick rose bushes. Laurent hadn’t seen Damen all day, as lately the Akielon had been too busy to check on him in bed, so he was eager to run into his lover and say hello. 

However, he stopped when he heard another familiar voice speak up in response – Nikandros. Laurent inched closer. 

“– should talk to him about it.” 

“I can’t,” Damen insisted. “He barely hears me when I speak. He’s just… empty.” 

“He’s your husband,” Nikandros said in a surprisingly gentle tone, and Laurent’s back straightened. “He loves you.” 

“He won’t let me near him.” The bitterness was clear in Damen’s tone. “Half the time we don’t even sleep in the same bed. I have to tread so lightly around him, I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

“Damen–” 

“I’m serious, Nik. He’s changed. This isn’t the Laurent I fell in love with."

Laurent’s breaths started coming faster, and he turned on his heel to stalk in the other direction, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. As Laurent walked, he felt like his legs didn’t belong to him. The world went out of focus, details and colors blurring together, concerned faces he passed fading into the walls around them. 

When he arrived at his room, he crawled into bed, and didn’t leave for a long, long time. 

The world came back into focus to the sound of a door opening and closing, and then footsteps nearing the bed. 

“Darling,” Damen said gently, and it sounded poisonous on Damen’s tongue. 

Laurent did not acknowledge him. 

“I’m going to be taking a trip soon.” That got Laurent’s attention, who turned toward him at last. 

“What?” Laurent’s voice cracked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken.

“There’s trouble at Ios.” The answer was too simple. 

“What trouble?” 

“Don’t worry yourself about it. I don’t want to stress you out. I promise I’ll handle it,” Damen replied as he leaned down and placed a gentle, hesitant kiss on Laurent’s forehead. 

“You’re leaving now?” Laurent asked, voice raising an octave. 

Damen paused, and looked off to the side. “Yes.” 

“How long will you be gone?” Laurent needed to know. 

“Two months. Maybe three,” Damen said, still not meeting Laurent’s eyes. 

_Oh_ , Laurent thought, and he could barely hear his own voice in his head. 

“I love you,” Laurent whispered. Damen nodded, before reaching out to cup Laurent’s cheek one last time in goodbye. 

The sound of the door shutting echoed throughout the room, and Laurent had never felt more alone in his life. His hand reached for his stomach, and he gripped on tight to the scarring there, grounding himself in the pain that resonated throughout his body.

They wrote to each other while Damen was away, but it was never enough for Laurent. He tried not to feel like he was losing Damen’s affection, but how else could one explain the desperate words he sent to his husband? 

_I hope my letter did not get delayed this time, as I told the messenger to ride as fast as possible for you. I understand you are busy, so take your time with your response. I miss you every day; each morning I wake up alone and eat without you, but I like to imagine you sitting across from me, smiling and offering to feed me a bit of pastry to go with my tea. I miss those days between us, when one laugh from you could brighten my day, and the rest of the world blurred around the edges when we were together. There is a hole in my heart that nothing but your embrace can fill, so I spend my days wandering, thinking of you and the days when we were vibrant together. Sometimes I feel so much older than I am. Do you think of me too?_

He knew that he should be sparing with his words and letters, but Laurent could not stop himself from writing to Damen every day about whatever came to his mind. It was easier to share his thoughts in these letters, instead of with his words. Since Damen’s departure, Laurent missed having the other man around, even just to sit in silence with him in bed. He even began to miss touch, or at least the way Damen touched him – like he was worth something, like his body was whole. 

_We must dispose of this messenger, as your letters keep arriving later and later. I think of you, too, when night falls upon Ios and I retire to my rooms after a day of long work. Sometimes I see a head of golden hair around the palace and remember your soft locks, and the way they feel sifting through my fingers. I miss that feeling. Stay strong, my love. I will be back with you, soon..._

Laurent dedicated his time to learning simple magic tricks, and when he encountered children on his walks, he would show them the wonders he could perform with a card deck or a few marbles. He came to love these children dearly, and he always made efforts to learn their names. Often he made up excuses to visit the tutoring section of the palace just so he could watch the dozens of rosy-cheeked, giggling children learn about the world with wonder in their eyes. Sometimes they caught him spying, and he would have to show them more magic tricks to make up for his deception; he never minded the longer stay.

_The days seem longer without you. I am trying to stay strong, but I cannot seem to find solace in my thoughts these days. I am taking longer walks now, as they help me feel a little more real in this world. Sometimes I go without shoes so that I may feel the soil of the gardens and the gritty pavement of the palace pathways on my bare feet; it makes me feel free. Recently Jord has been accompanying me on these walks, but he does not speak – he just trails paces behind me, always watching. I appreciate the company, but it’s nothing like having my arm looped through yours as we stroll along the palace we built together. I told some of the servants about our rooftop adventure from years ago the other night, and they loved it. I said that you would have to tell them more stories from our past when you get back. Come home soon. It’s been too long._

Once, when Laurent mastered a difficult magic trick, his immediate, giddy thought was: _Nicaise will love this_ , before he could stop himself. _Time seems to blend together here,_ Laurent wrote to Damen that evening, as he sat by his windows. 

_Paschal wrote to me that you are wandering the palace at night without shoes and refusing to eat or sleep. I do not know how much longer I need to give you, but this is getting old. How am I supposed to take care of our kingdom when you won’t even take care of yourself?_

Laurent found that he could not bear to be in their shared rooms after a few months alone. The more time passed, the more paranoid he felt about every shadow that moved in the darkness at night; he often would wake up panicked, thinking he heard the sound of the window opening, only to see an empty, silent room around him. 

_I know I have been cold and distant, and I have my regrets, but I swear to you, when you come home, things will be different. I want to be touched again._

Laurent’s dreams did not help. Sometimes he dreamt of family – of crying babies and morning kisses and a future he would never have. Sometimes he dreamt of it happening again – the force of the knife, his skin splitting around it, not knowing when it would end. In both scenarios, Laurent inevitably woke up crying and alone, in a bed that felt too big for only one person.

_My councilors in Ios think that I should take on a concubine to produce an heir to our kingdom. I think this would be the best course of action to secure a prosperous future. What do you think?_

So he stayed up during the night now, exploring hidden corners of the palace and reading in the moonlight. In the day, he napped in the library, curled into a big red armchair that used to be Damen’s favorite. 

_I love you. Is that not enough for our future?_

Days blurred, and Laurent blurred with them. Because Damen’s letters had dwindled in response time little by little, it should not have come as a surprise to Laurent when the letters stopped altogether. Laurent felt the blow of it fully nonetheless.

One day, Laurent took a detour from his usual route around the palace in the night. He had brought several things with him this time, including Damen’s last letter to him. When he came upon the towering statue of the man who should’ve been king in Laurent’s place, he dropped to his knees at its base, the snow on the ground soaking through the long skirt of his frock. Goosebumps broke out all over Laurent’s skin, and it made him miss his alpha’s warmth. 

“Brother,” Laurent whispered, gazing up at Auguste’s regal stone features. “I made a mistake.” 

Laurent laughed dryly at the way he paused, as if leaving space in the conversation for a reply that would never come. The dead felt more real than ever for Laurent lately.

“I let myself hope,” he said, looking down at his hands, unable to face his brother any longer. “And I let my guard down.” 

“Damen insists it was not my fault, but I don’t buy that,” Laurent said, his voice coming out stronger now – his conviction was strong in this fact. “I should have known that I’m not allowed to have something as precious as family.” 

He sniffled, and wiped at his nose. 

“And I know I probably sound pathetic and self-pitying, but I figured you of all people would not judge me if so.” Laurent took a deep breath. “I just wanted to let you know that I tried.”

Snowflakes began falling down around Laurent, catching in his fair hair and dampening the white fabric he wore.

“I tried to go for happiness. I went for it with all I have.” 

The warmth of the tears streaming down Laurent’s face were welcome against the chill of the night. “And I failed.” The knife in his grip felt heavier than ever.

At that moment, Laurent heard Damen’s voice. _Laurent_. 

“Damen?” He asked out loud, whirling around to see if he could spot his husband’s large form in the night. Damen was supposed to still be in Ios.

 _Laurent_ , came the voice again. 

The omega stood, and stumbled toward where he thought he could hear the man’s voice. He rounded a corner marked by a wide pillar, and at the end of the walkway was a bright, pulsing light. 

“Damen?” Laurent called out. 

_Laurent, it’s me_. That was all he needed to hear. Maybe he was losing his mind; he didn’t care. Laurent ran towards the light. 

“Laurent,” he heard, muffled. “ _Laurent,”_ clearer now.

A gasp ripped through Laurent’s chest, and his eyes flew open. Light – blinding, yellow light. A hand on his arm. A sudden shadow looming over his face and blessedly blocking out the sunlight in his face. 

“Finally, you’re awake,” Laurent heard, and he blinked – Damen sat over him, a heartbreakingly beautiful smile plastered on his face. Damen hadn’t looked at Laurent like that in months. 

“Am I dreaming?” Laurent asked, dumbfounded. Damen scowled.

“Laurent, I’ve been trying to wake you up for five minutes now. You were out like the dead. What were you dreaming about?” Damen sounded genuinely curious. 

The words sank in. Slowly, with thick disbelief and a traitorous spark of hope, Laurent looked down at his stomach. 

“My baby,” was all Laurent could say, as his hands came down to his rounded midsection. Unable to believe what he was seeing, Laurent sat up, tore the covers off and lifted his bed shirt up in a manner undignified for a king, but Laurent didn’t particularly care at the moment. 

The skin of his stomach was smooth. His head swung so he could look at Damen, who was gazing at him with a mixture of fond confusion, amusement and love. Laurent broke down into tears. He had the passing thought that all he did was cry anymore, but then he realized that those tears had never been real in the first place. A wellspring of pure, relieved joy grew in the omega’s chest, and he let out a sob.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Damen asked, his arms coming around Laurent’s body in a way he had missed so dearly. Laurent buried his face in Damen’s chest and breathed in deeply, letting his alpha’s scent calm him down. _Of course,_ he thought, his mind coming to a realization. _I couldn’t smell anything in my dream_ , _and time didn’t feel real._ He should’ve known, then, that he wasn’t in his own reality, but he made the mental note for next time he had a particularly realistic dream. 

As it was, Laurent let himself be held by the love of his life as he cried, who was wrapped around him with nothing but love in his scent. 

“Hey,” Damen prompted gently, tugging on Laurent’s shoulder so that they could face each other properly. He reached up to caress Laurent’s cheek. “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes,” Laurent croaked out, reaching up to wipe at his eyes and leaning into Damen’s touch like he was starving for it. Damn his pregnancy hormones. “There was an attack. We lost the baby. You didn’t want me anymore.” 

Damen’s face crumbled, and he leaned forward to plant a kiss on each of Laurent’s cheeks. “I swear to you, Laurent,” his voice was fierce. “I promise that you’re safe. I would never let anything happen to you, and nothing could make me love you any less than I do. _Nothing_.”

Damen cupped Laurent’s wet, flushed cheeks in both hands and wiped away a few tears. “I belong to you. I will always be here. Don’t let a dream convince you otherwise.” 

Laurent nodded, and Damen leaned in to seal their lips together – once, then again, and again. Laurent whimpered into the endless string of kisses, feeling like it’d been ages since he’d last been touched with care, and wanting to breathe in Damen’s strong essence as much as possible. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Damen whispered in the scant space between their lips as they parted briefly. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Surging forward to capture Damen’s lips again, Laurent let all of his emotions bleed into the kiss, trying to convey to Damen how much he’d be willing to do for him, how much he’d give up, just to remain in his arms.

Laurent felt like he might burst out into giddy laughter at any moment, so he crawled into Damen’s lap and nuzzled into the alpha’s neck, soaking up his rich scent. He then made his way up to Damen’s mouth and caught the other man’s lips in a sugary sweet kiss. Though the dream still lingered in his mind, Laurent felt safe from its horrors in Damen’s arms. As long as they were together, nothing could touch Laurent. The two men kissed with a mixture of eagerness and tender languor, and the taste of Damen’s breath as well as the feel of his hands cradling Laurent’s baby bump brought the omega a peace like no other.

When Laurent felt Damen kissing down his neck, he gasped and let his head fall back in abandon. Damen’s skillful mouth worked the sensitive skin of Laurent’s throat, and the omega’s hips started moving of their own accord, grinding down into Damen’s lap in a hazy, unrestrained rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure down Laurent’s spine.

“Mm,” Damen murmured in approval as he let his early morning stubble drag over the skin right underneath Laurent’s chin. Laurent’s grip on Damen’s shoulders tightened, his breathing picked up and his eyes fell closed. “That’s it.”

“Damen,” Laurent whined, when large hands slid up his legs and brushed against the bare inside of his thighs. It was all too much – to be allowed this after he thought he had lost it forever.

“I’ve got you,” Damen reassured huskily as one of his hands traveled further back to where Laurent was most sensitive. “I’ll always have you.” 

Laurent took a sharp breath as Damen began to prepare him, and he allowed himself the freedom to grind wantonly on Damen’s fingers, unrestrained by the embarrassment he usually felt at such an act; his desperation for his lover stripped him of any inhibitions that usually plagued his sex life. Damen held him the whole time, whispering praises into his burning red ear while Laurent gradually and tenderly fell apart. 

At three fingers, Laurent breathily insisted he was ready and yanked his sleep shirt off. He held onto Damen tightly as he sank down onto him, while his alpha muffled curses into the curve of his throat. Laurent swore he had never felt a fullness so complete. 

They made love without hurry, without any thoughts on their minds besides the feel of the other. Damen seemed content with their slow pace and the gentle rolls of Laurent’s hips against his, as they panted into each other’s mouths hotly. The only sound in the room was their breaths, and the occasional soft but lovely moan from Laurent as he lost himself in the feel of their bodies intertwined together.

Damen’s hands roamed over every inch of Laurent – his hips, his baby bump, his shoulders, his hair, his face. Laurent felt completely and utterly devoured, and all he could do was hold on and let out breathy cries as their pace intensified. 

“D-Damen,” Laurent stuttered out, when tan hips bucked up to meet his own. 

“I’m here, baby,” Damen growled, one of his hands on Laurent’s hip and the other cradling his face, a broad thumb catching on Laurent’s lower lip.

“Mark me,” Laurent pleaded, and he could feel his release nearing. Damen, who had never been one to deny Laurent any request, pulled Laurent’s head to the side and bit down on his omega’s neck as he reached down to touch his lover.

The combination of sensations sent Laurent over the edge, and he whined his way to completion, arms locked tight around Damen’s neck and face buried into his sweaty shoulder. Damen found his release soon after.

They sat, Laurent still in Damen’s lap, catching their breaths together for a few minutes before Damen spoke:

“I love you so much, Laurent. You’re everything to me. Even without the baby, I’d still want you just as much. You have to know that.” Damen was stroking along the sides of Laurent’s stomach and planting small kisses up and down his neck.

Laurent hid his toothy smile in Damen’s shoulder. 

“Yes, I know,” he whispered, and meant it.

He looked over to the windows on the other side of the room – at the trees, and their gnarled branches, swaying in the wind. _Thank you_ , Laurent thought to no one in particular, as he basked in the sunlight filtering through the window and the feeling of Damen’s reverent hands on his skin. Laurent had been wrong about the direction of his future, all those years ago – there was more for him than bitterness and loneliness. He had built a life with the alpha that was currently holding him like he was precious, and he wasn’t ever going to let that go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My tumblr is [lamen-trash](https://lamen-trash.tumblr.com/). I love getting fic requests so feel free to send them my way!


End file.
